The Sweet Coconut Vendor

In Santa Marta, I stayed in a hostel called La Brisa Loca which was a really nice looking hostel; big, open, modern, with a decent bar area and a pool. But for such a big place, they really needed more cleaning staff or more attentive administration, because my dorm was never cleaned after the messy boys left.

I walked about town and was wowed by the beach scene; hundreds of people cooling off in the gentle blue-green Caribbean, an island in the near distance and a cruise ship docked to the right. The beach itself was small, with waves breaking close to the esplanade, and the sand dark. In a lazy mood, I decided not to do anything during my short stay but people watch.

Was it the vibe of the locals, most possessing that vibrant African heritage of love for music and fun, or the fact that Christmas was just around the corner, that lent the evening such an excitable atmosphere? The esplanade was lit up by lights and simply alive with people trying to beat the heat melting their icecream.

Across the way, I saw a middle-aged man setting up a small table with what looked like a mound of... something delicious. At first I thought it might be coco chicharon but the cops arrived before I found out. Apparently he wasn't allowed to sell things on the esplanade and had to go across the street. They argued all the way to the curb, so I crossed the street to wait for him, money in hand. But as soon as the cops left, he returned to the esplanade and set up again.

It was toffee coconut, which was less sickly sweet than the chicharon I had in Ecuador, and I sat down on a low garden wall to enjoy it and continue people watching. When he set up the table next to me, we small talked for a while then left the table with me for a reason I didn't know. People walking by eyed the coconut like I had done and I wondered if I could actually break into the business world by selling sweet coconut on Caribbean beaches. I nearly made a sale before the man came back with his wife Patricia.

Patricia and I small talked while the selling was done by the man and I asked her where the mercado was for a cheap meal. The next morning, my ankle was too sore to walk that far and I ended up eating some cheap but delicious soup at a truck stop with some amused and curious locals.